


Lost

by silvertrails



Series: Warrior and Minstrel [15]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: A lost elf comes to Elrond's house.





	Lost

**Lost  
** By CC  
March, 2015 

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended.

B2MeM Challenge: Someone opens the pages of a book and something falls out. The book is either a volume from the Rivendell library or the personal copy of an inhabitant of Rivendell. It could contain Bilbo's translations from the Elvish or an ancient elvish lay or be a ledger of household accounts--there are many possibilities…

* * *

The vale was no longer the beautiful place that he remembered, though maybe he had never been here and only dreamed of it. He had heard tales of the home of Elrond Half-Elven while he lay weak and dazed on a bed, unable to do anything but allow the Woodmen to nurse him back to health. They had found him near the Anduin, starved and waiting for death, and nurtured him back to health in spite of himself. 

They had named him Eglir, for he sang softly to himself, even though he would not speak. 

What had happened to him at the hands of Gorthaur’s creatures? With their master gone, they had lost their last restraint and raided villages of Elves and Men, leaving death and despair in their wake. Eglir had no memory or the last few years, but he remembered well the chains and the abuse. He had tried to escape, to free his fëa from his suffering hröa, but his will had been taken away. 

The wounds had finally healed, but his fëa was still badly bruised, and after staying with the Woodmen for a few years, he had escaped and climbed up the Hithaeglir, trying to escape the darkness that terrified him. So he had come to this place and it was nothing like the house full of laughter and light that he remembered. 

It was dark and cold and Eglir could see ghosts wandering through the corridors. Elves he had known once, both Sindar and Noldor, living together in a haven of peace. Eglir could remember the wine and the laughter, and the music… and the books. 

It was the books that called to him, always the books for the music was gone forever. Eglir would sit on the floor and try to read the few books left behind. How much time had passed since he spoke with--- Anguish seized his heart as he realized that there was no salvation! He was not strong enough to continue. He had no choice but to sit on the floor and wait for the Lord of Mandos to call him. 

But not just yet, Eglir mused as he reached for the last book, the one he had been unable to touch since he arrived at Elrond’s house. It was a collection of ancient lays, lays he had sung with---

Eglir forced himself to open the book, and his eyes fell on a sketch someone had hidden inside. There were two Elves in it, singing together under a tree. Who were those Elves? Eglir knew one of them!

He clutched the sketch to his chest, and music came back to him. Eglir sung softly, whishing he knew who the Elves were. He never heard the light steps or the soft gasp. 

“Daeron?”

Eglir looked up, alarmed, but the eyes looking at him where the same eyes from the sketch. “I know you,” he whispered.

The Elf knelt beside him. “Of course you know me, Daeron. Where have you been?”

“I was… Eglir… I was lost…”

“You are not lost anymore,” the other Elf said. “Let me take you to a place where you can rest. You are freezing.”

Eglir allowed the other Elf to help him up, still trying to remember. His knees gave way under him, and the Elf picked him up. Like before… How could he have forgotten those eyes?

“You are… Maglor…” Eglir murmured. The Elf nodded tiredly. 

“And you are Daeron,” he said, “and I am here. I will never leave you behind again.”


End file.
